Sing to Me
by idiotique
Summary: A collection of Mimato vignettes inspired by various songs.
1. Revolve

_A/N: I had a bit of a Digimon phase in the midst of writing a Harry Potter fic (which is still in progress due to my procrastination and school, the latter of which is killing me at this present moment) and I had to write this down in case I lost it._

_This random drabble was inspired by listening to Straylight Run's _Existentialism on Prom Night _on repeat at 3 in the morning while pretending to read Jane Eyre. Here's to hoping it tickles your fancy._

**Revolve.**

The sun was barely awake as it crept through their window that early morning. It dappled across the white sheet that coated their still forms. There was a slight cool breeze and it swept through, ruffling the lacy curtains. He cursed himself mentally for forgetting to close the window.

He was lying there with his elbow propped up and his hand supporting his chin. The sleepy sun flickered in his brilliant blue eyes, making them look brighter than they usually were, and the soft morning breeze wavered over his tousled blond hair. He was focused on the sleeping figure beside him, a small, distant smile on his calm face.

She was beautiful.

Caramel curls were spread across the soft downy pillow her head was resting on, making her look as if she was underwater. Long dark lashes fluttered over her cheekbones, concealing stunning hazel depths. Her small but full mouth was slightly parted and her chest rose and fell in a slow rhythmic pattern. It fell in step with the song that was playing softly on the other side of their closed door; Takeru was probably awake.

He leaned forward and closed his eyes, his lips and the tip of his nose brushing against the skin of her bare back, tracing her spine. He took in her scent, stopping at just between her shoulder blades. She always smelled like strawberries.

No one would have ever guessed, not even he, that they would end up in such a situation - not that it was a bad one, of course. They hardly ever talked during the course of their childhood, and her move to New York did not help much either.

It was that twist of fate that one chilly November evening that intertwined them at last.

He was in New York with the band for a gig just a couple of years ago at a small club. He was surprised they had a bit of a following in America; the floor was packed with people he did not know and probably will never meet. The air was thick, moist and suffocating and smog-like. The grinding guitar distortion, the beat of the bass drum vibrating in his gut, the hollering of the audience-it all blended together in some kind of warped medley, mixed and nonsensical to his ears. His eyes, weary and partly blind due to the only source of light being a lone, dim lightbulb hanging over his head, scanned the crowd in vain, crossing over each unfamiliar face.

Then she appeared, standing straight and still, her wavy, strawberry pink strands framing her face, falling gracefully over her shoulders and her wide, expressive hazel eyes boring holes into his own confused blue ones.

The world stopped right then and there; the air somehow smelled clearer, the stench of cigarettes and sweat completely absent. The noise of his band's music and the crowd disappeared. He saw people's mouths moving but they made no noise. It was a comforting silence. She stood there, just a few rows away from the stage, her hands clasped together in front of her and a small smile greeting him wordlessly. Everything except her was shrouded in black and white. She was the only one bathed in colour. He could do nothing else but stare back.

The world revolved around them that night.

The sun was higher now; the sky was no longer an array of pinks and oranges but a crisp, cloudless blue smudge. Their room brightened considerably, but the breeze that whisked through the window was still quite frigid. He noticed her shivering under their thin white cover; a small, nearly unnoticeable tremble that could have been easily ignored if he had not been paying close attention to her. He looked up for a brief moment and stared at the half-open window that threatened to escalate her small tremors into something worse. In a few quick movements he soundlessly swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and pulled on his navy boxers that were lying conveniently by his ankles. It did not take long for him to simply cross over and shut the window; in mere seconds he was back by her side, satisfied that she was no longer shivering.

Now that the window was closed their room welled up in a cozy warmth that coaxed him into falling back to sleep, but he fought the temptation. Slowly, the corners of her mouth twisted upwards into a small smile. She was dreaming of something happy, and that made him smile too. He twisted a strand of her shoulder-length hair around his finger and tucked it behind her ear. The song on the other side of their door was still playing, muffled but still audible. He wondered if Takeru was making breakfast, but he could not catch the scent of any food cooking.

She stirred a little, moaning lazily and rolling over so that she was facing him. This made things much easier. He lowered himself to her level and just laid there, still and breathing evenly. His eyes, still caught in the rays of the rising sun, slid over her, admiring how the thin fabric of the sheet hugged onto every curve, every crevasse. The warmth of the room made everything dreamlike, hazy. She looked so perfect lying there, her lashes quivering slightly as she continued dreaming.

He loved every part of her, from the way her bottom lip protruded slightly in a pout whenever things did not run her way, to the gentle stride of her walk. There was nothing in the world that mattered more the moment he saw her standing there in the midst of that roaring crowd, doing nothing more than staring up at him with that small smile he grew to love so much. That moment, those few seconds, minutes, however long it was, he did not keep track, changed everything.

The song that was playing in the other room, quiet and soothing, added to the dreamy atmosphere. The faint scent of strawberries hung over them and he could not restrain himself any longer. He scooted closer to her and draped an arm over her slim waist, pulling her to him. The heaviness of sleep was slowly but surely conquering and he let his eyelids droop halfway.

She reacted almost automatically to his touch; she wound her thin arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder. Their distance was closed, the contours of their bodies fitting into place like adjoining puzzle pieces. The sun wrapped them in an incandescent layer of light, adding another blanket of warmth on top of the thin silk sheet that was covering the both of them. Her soft voice, slow and slurred from sleep, kept him from succumbing.

"Yama-kun," She breathed, and looked up at him. Her amber orbs, though partially hidden through half-open eyelids, enticed him, captured him and held him. His senses, now aroused due to her being awake, became more attuned to everything around him. The song that hummed softly in the other room became louder and the room looked brighter. Her outline looked sharper and she felt so breakable, so fragile in his limp grasp.

The world revolved around them that morning.

"Sing me something soft," She whispered before pressing her face against his shoulder once more, "sing me anything."

He lowered his head, puckering his lips against her forehead in a swift kiss. She relaxed in his arms, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck, her breathing slowing down once more as she began to drift back into unconsciousness. He was only millimeters away from her ear as he began to sing quietly, repeating the words that were muffled against their closed door and the words she just uttered a few moments ago:

_"Sing me something soft,_

_Sad and delicate,_

_Or loud and out of key._

_Sing me anything."_


	2. Burn

_A/N: This was actually supposed to be a one-shot thing, but then I kept coming up with new ideas whenever I listened to specific songs. Oh well._

_The inspiration behind this is _Your Ex-Lover Is Dead_ by _Stars.

_If you wanna be more specific, it was the _Final Fantasy remix_ - no, not the video game…_

_--_

**Burn.**

"C'mon Yama, we're going to be late."

Takeru's voice was faint, muffled by his closed door. Yamato sighed and stared into the mirror; his reflection stared back with sunken, solemn eyes. His shirt looked too wrinkled and his skin was too pale. He looked like had hadn't slept in weeks.

Outside, it began to rain.

In one swift movement he donned his black blazer and stepped out of his room. Takeru was waiting by the door, twirling a forest green umbrella.

"You really need to get out more." The younger boy said as he unlocked the door.

It was silent, uncomfortable car ride to the cafe. Takeru tried lightening the mood with a little conversation but Yamato only stared straight ahead, concentrating on the road. His hands gripped the steering wheel firmly, his pallid knuckles whitening even more.

"Aren't you excited, Yama?" Takeru asked, his head resting against the window, "We haven't seen her in nearly a year. It's gonna be great to have everyone together again."

He pulled up at the parking lot. The moment the car engine stopped rumbling Takeru scrambled out of the car, popping open his umbrella. Yamato didn't even bother to bring one. He hoped that the cool rain would wash the burning feeling he felt on the inside.

"Hey, they're here!" Sora.

"S'about time you guys showed up, we thought you weren't gonna come at all!" Taichi.

The cafe was warm and it smelled like coffee and pastries; everyone stood in front of him, around him. Trapping him. The flames licked at his insides.

"Hello, Yama-kun." The flames scorched his stomach, burning up his esophagus. Her soft, serene voice scalded his eardrums.

She was in the middle of the group, looking up at him shyly with brilliant caramel eyes. There was a small smile on her face, inviting him, taunting him. She looked shorter than the last time they saw each other.

There was nothing he could say to her now. He gave her a curt nod before averting his gaze somewhere else, avoiding the burning that threatened to wipe over his eyes, his tongue.

"Well, now that we're all here, I say it's time we hit my place. Cool?" Everyone cheered in response to Taichi's suggestion, and they filed out of the little cafe, spreading out into everyone's cars.

"Hey Mimi, why don't you come with us? There's plenty of room." Dammit, Takeru.

"U-um, sure...if that's okay with your brother of course." Hesitant. Fumbling. The inferno raged on.

"I'm pretty sure he's fine with it, isn't that right Yama?" He couldn't say no, that would be ungentlemanly of him. His silence was all Takeru needed, and the younger man led Mimi to the car, even offering gunshot. She politely smiled before ducking inside. Another burn scraped at his throat.

She was staring out of the window the entire ride; Takeru once again tried firing up conversation but failed miserably. Thank God Taichi didn't live too far.

Every once in awhile he would find himself staring at her, even for just a second or two. When there was a red light or a stop sign he studied her still posture, the way her eyes looked when she was staring off into the distance. Her milky brown curls were a little longer than he remembered, trickling just past her shoulders. She was frowning. Did she look this forlorn the day they parted? If he leaned in just a little closer, would she still smell like strawberries? If he reached out to graze his thumb against her cheek, would her skin be just as soft and smooth as it had the last time he had done it? If he kissed her then and there, would he still be able to feel the softness of her lips, the gentle swipe of her tongue, the warmth that radiated between them?

He felt the tips of his fingers prickling with fire.

"Why do you look so sad, Yama-kun?" Mimi's voice piped up again once he pulled into Taichi's driveway, "I haven't heard you speak yet."

_Mimi. _Her name sounded so foreign, a language that he couldn't understand. Those two simple syllables pierced him, sliced through him. She was peering up at him with her small hand on the door handle; her eyes were a liquid amber, large and expressive. Sad. Concerned. They tore through him, igniting everything in their path. He was beginning to feel a little dizzy.

What were they now? What was she to him now?

_You were what I wanted._ He clambered out of the car and waited for his brother and her. Judging by the frown she was wearing she must've felt it too.


	3. Light Up

_Inspiration: _Run _by _Snow Patrol.

--

**Light Up.**

The colourful, unusual plants of the Digital World were now shrouded in greys and blacks of the night. The large, full moon peeked out from the clouds, casting a silvery light and sending millions of sparkles across the dark water of the lake that kept them from moving any further. Taichi suggested that they took this opportunity to rest, for tomorrow they were to figure out a way to cross it. Apparently it was supposed to get them somewhere, but Mimi had no idea what. It wasn't like they knew this place by heart, or why they were even here in the beginning.

"Mimi, it's late. You should be sleeping." The odd plant-like thing called out to her in the darkness. Palmon, that was its name. She remembered now.

"Don't worry Palmon, it just takes me a long time to fall asleep, that's all. You need your rest too." She whispered back. She heard the Digimon rustle in the grass, probably getting herself comfortable. Silence rang throughout the forest once again, save for the distant crackling of a campfire in the distance and the soft rumbling of everyone sleeping. Mimi wondered whose turn it was to keep watch.

As if somebody read her mind, a strange humming noise cut clear through the air. It was sharp and distinct, yet soft enough to prevent anyone from waking - besides, she didn't think anything would be able to penetrate Taichi's horrendous snoring. She recognized the sound, though, and a small bout of warmth rose to her cheeks.

A harmonica.

Concluding that she probably wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, she rose to a squatting position and pulled her hat over her head, her eyes narrowing towards the fire. As she expected, he was sitting with his back against a thick tree trunk, his gloves tossed to the side and his eyes closed. The shiny little instrument was cupped in his thin hands, sliding back and forth against his mouth. Gabumon was curled up by his thigh, his furry back rising and falling with deep sleep.

Mimi wondered how it would feel to have those hands around her, comforting her, reassuring her. She imagined him as protective over her as he was over his brother, constantly berating her whenever she did something illogical, or praising her whenever she accomplished something extraordinary. She wondered how hard it was to make him smile. Was his hair as hard and spiky as it appeared to be? Was he really as cool and tough as he wanted everyone to think? She wanted to know so much about him, yet at the same time she knew it was impossible. Nobody dared to even try to open him, to read him. He wouldn't let anybody near him, except his brother. She tried talking to the little boy about him, but not even he knew as much as she hoped. Their parents were separated and this was the first time Takeru actually got to spend time with him in years. She wondered how hard it would be if her parents ever got divorced.

The music stopped, and for a second her heart did too. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth to supress a yawn, then reached down to pocket his harmonica. Just as he was about to pull his gloves on, he turned his head towards her. His eyes found hers, and she froze completely. The looked even bluer in the moonlight.

"Mimi." His voice was calm, smooth and deep. And emotionless. He jerked his head a little, wordlessly inviting her over. She scrambled onto her feet and stumbled over to him, stopping to sit down on the ground. His eyes were glazed over the fire, the flames reflecting in his blue irises. He had never really talked to her before, but somehow being in his presence was...comforting. Like she knew things were going to be okay again if she just stayed by his side.

"Weird place we stumbled into, huh?" He said softly, and she nodded, her lips tight and thin. He brushed a few spiky bangs out of his eyes and scratched the back of his head, "Never thought this would happen to me. This kinda stuff only happens in movies, or TV shows or whatever."

Every word he spoke brought a shock coursing up and down her spine. Her fingertips felt numb for some reason, and her mind was racing. Her tongue felt paralyzed, unable to move, unable to speak. Was there something smart or impressive that she could say to him? She didn't want him to know she was just a spoiled brat who wanted out of this weird place, but for some reason she felt that he already knew.

"I don't like it." She managed to say, but her voice sounded shaky, unsure, "There are so many things out here, I feel like we always have to look over our shoulders every once in awhile. Like we're never safe."

"I hear you," He said, and gave her a smirk that caused a warming sensation to rise in her chest, "but by the looks of it I don't think we're gonna find a way out anytime soon. Looks like we have to endure it for awhile."

He sounded so smart for someone so young. She felt her uneasiness melting away with every passing minute she was with him. And they haven't even had a full fledged conversation yet.

"I know you're afraid," He said softly. She hugged her knees to her chest and stared into the fire, "but it's alright. I think it's okay to be afraid, especially when you've been dropped on an entirely new world with no knowledge of it whatsoever. It's okay to be scared of what you don't know."

The moon seemed to have risen a little higher now; the forest didn't look as dark as it used to. The lake was shimmering, its ripples giving off uneven sparkles. It looked like a large sheet of black and white glass, a monochrome mosaic. She raised her head to look at him. He was staring back at her, his eyes not as distant and stoic as they were supposed to be. They looked warmer to her, maybe even vulnerable. She was sensing something in him that no one else could, and probably never will, but she didn't know what it was.

"I don't know how long we're gonna be out here, whether it be days, weeks, months, or maybe even years, but at least we're out here together. We may be lost, but it feels a lot better to be lost with someone else instead of trying to find your way on your own." He smiled for her, and the warmth she felt inside threatened to consume her, "So don't be afraid to _be _afraid, Mimi. Just know that I'm afraid too, with you."

His eyes were so blue. How long would it be before she never gets to see them again? Whenever that was, it didn't matter for now. He was here, and he was by her side. They were afraid of this new world together, with people they hardly knew, and with creatures they were just beginning to understand. She was lost, but at the same time she couldn't help but feel at ease with where she was just now. She was simply content just sitting there by the fire, with his smile embracing her and his blue, blue eyes comforting her, telling her that everything was going to be okay.

"Play your harmonica again, Yamato," She said quietly before yawning, "I think I'm ready to sleep now."

He nodded and plucked his harmonica out of his pocket, held it to his slightly parted lips, and resumed playing. The soft humming resonated through the trees, ruffling through every leaf, quivering every stone. It filled her, completed her, and instilled a soothing calmness within. She felt tired now, and her eyelids were threatening to droop.

He paused for a minute, "You don't have to move. Sleep where you are, I'm not going anywhere."

She pulled her hat off and rested her head on the soft grass, yawning once again and finally letting her eyelids close all the way. She fell into a quick, deep sleep, knowing that he was going to keep his word.


End file.
